The Silver Lion
by singingviolets
Summary: The Second Wizarding War has just come to an end. Carina Greengrass, with her mother and stepfather, have been living in France in fear. But now that it's safe in England, Carina transfers to Hogwarts on a journey to discover her parentage and dissolve the post-war turmoil in the wizarding world.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: In which Carina wakes up at a normal time and makes a decision.**

 _"I love you, my dear," murmured the ginger-haired woman, tears welling up in her eyes._

 _The man in question was facing her, his visage hidden. He gently approached and kissed the woman. Yet after merely a moment, he broke away._

 _"I must go," he whispered, so softly that the woman could hardly hear it._

 _"No," she whimpered. Her composure finally broke, tears finally spilling out like tiny shards of glass._

 _"No!"_

 _But it was too late, the dark stranger was already fading._

 _Thunk! Thunk!_

Thunk!

I opened one eye and looked up. The clock read 8 AM – my alarm couldn't have gone off yet. Then what was causing that ruckus?

Thunk!

Rubbing both eyes, I sat up with a yawn. I'd stayed up until 3 AM talking to Annette through our two-way mirror, and I was determined to get at least another hour of sleep. I slowly turned my head around to face the mirror. Sure enough –

Thunk!

-there was an owl trying to get in. Blimey, just why did wizarding mail have to come so early in the morning? Muggles usually got theirs at a respectable morning time like noon – why couldn't we learn from them? Groaning, I pushed myself up and shuffled to the window. I grabbed the mail and paid the owl a few Knuts then sent it away. Unfortunately for me, the owl screeched with joy before it sped off, destroying any hope I had of sleeping in on this fine Saturday morning.

Since I wasn't going to be able to fall asleep after that horrible noise, I sorted through the mail: Mum's potions catalog, a photo of some bloke named Gilderoy Lockhart – probably Dad's, bills, _The Daily Prophet_ , more bills, and…a letter for _me_.

Strange, I hadn't been expecting anything. I flipped it over – there was no return address or name. Just a beautiful crest seal of all the colors of the rainbow, embellished with gold and silver on the sides. No, wait a minute, there were words on it – Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Oh no.

"Mum!" I yelled. Oh, she was going to have it. I ran to her bedroom and pounded on the door.

"MUM!"

"What is it, dear?" asked a soft voice behind me. My mother, ever the morning person, was already in her clothes for her day, her curly red hair pulled back into a French braid. "You're not usually up this time of day on the weekends."

"Mum, look at this!" I shoved the Hogwarts letter into her hands. Her face immediately brightened, to my annoyance.

"You got in! Dearest, I knew you would," she smiled. I scowled at her. I had finished five years at Beauxbatons Academy this past spring, and I hoped to stay there for my last two years of schooling. Unfortunately, my parents – especially my mother – even though they were the ones who pushed me to start at Beauxbatons, had been encouraging my transfer to Hogwarts this year. The war was over, they said, so it was finally safe to let me stay in England. And why not send their dearest daughter off to the beloved magic school of their past?

"You want me to throw away my friends here on a whim? You want me to leave Annette? You want me to abandon the place at Beauxbatons that I worked so hard to earn as a British girl and start over – from scratch?" I glowered at her for a moment. Mum's face was a mixture of worry and sadness, but mostly shock.

Seeing her startled expression, I gasped. Outbursts like this were rare from me, and I absolutely didn't realize how loud I'd gotten. I swallowed the saliva that had gathered in my mouth and unclenched my fists.

"Sorry, Mum, I didn't mean to yell," I muttered. But the scowl was still on my face. "It's just that I hate you forcing this on me."

Mum just stared at me for a moment. Her face was blank, but I thought – hoped – she was trying to read my face, to understand me. Then, with a quiet murmur, she finally spoke.

"You don't have to go," she calmly assured me. "I'm not trying to force you." My shoulders relaxed, and only now did I realize how tense my entire body had been.

"But," she continued, and I immediately frowned. "But, this school was the home of myself and your _father_ for seven years."

Oh man. No

My father.

My _father_.

Not Dad – not Lloyd Greengrass – but my biological father, the one who won the heart of Eliza Prewett at seventeen. The man my mother loved, or rather, still loves.

I knew from an early age that I was no progeny of the Greengrasses. With Eliza Prewett's strawberry blonde hair and Lloyd Greengrass's light brown, there was no way any of their children could have hair darker than coffee. And when I grew up a bit, I noticed Dad's extreme gayness, and it was clear as day that my biological father was someone else.

A great man, if I were to believe Mum. Died in the war, killed by Voldemort himself. Dead, at eighteen, leaving his pregnant teen girlfriend alone in the midst of chaos.

But that was all I knew about him. I had tried to press Mum about him a few times in my life, but the response was either a flood of tears or a speech about how my true parentage was dangerous. I still didn't understand anything, but maybe now I had a chance to try.

"You mean-" I started carefully, "you mean that if I go there, I'll find out more about my real father?"

She nodded. "Bits and pieces," she said. "I can connect them for you when it's time," she added, dangling a wisp of silver from her head with her wand.

I swallowed.

"I'll think about it," I promised her. "But first, I'm going to see Annette."

– ∞ –

"So you're leaving me?" Annette sighed, head on my lap, my fingers massaging her head and running through her long blond hair. I had told her the news as soon as I Floo'd in.

"I don't have to," I reassured her softly. "I really don't." But to this, she yanked her head out of my lap and sat up straight.

"No! Don't say that," she exclaimed, her blue eyes awake and shining. She grabbed my hand in both of her own. "You have to find out," she added more quietly, but not with less intensity. "I would never, ever want to hold you back from _this_."

Now, this wasn't exactly the reaction I was expecting. I had thought that she would be upset or angry at this opportunity, and that some part of her would tell me to stay, but never did I think that she would _encourage_ me to transfer.

"I don't understand – why are you so eager to get rid of me?" I replied, half-jokingly. Noticing the quiver in my voice, she kissed me gently in reply, cupping my face in her delicate hands. I deepened the kiss, running my hands through her hair, slowly trailing them downwards. But when I got to her shoulders, Annette broke off the kiss and swiftly pulled away.

"Carina Greengrass," she moaned softly. "No, not Carina _Greengrass_ ," she corrected in a more assertive tone, "and that's the whole _point_ , isn't it? All your life you've been told that your biological father is someone important and dangerous and that _Seigneur de Mort_ would murder you on the spot if he knew your parentage. But now he's dead and gone, and there's nothing stopping you from finding out who is this important hero."

"But my mother—" I started, but she wasn't done.

"Your mother won't tell you about him, you said. She'll answer questions, but she wants you to discover him on your own," she reasoned. "This is your chance! So go after it!"

I sighed. Annette had always been the voice of reason in our relationship, so if she was telling me with all her heart to go do this, then maybe it was the right choice. And I had a nagging feeling that if I didn't go, I would regret it forever, and I would resent Annette for it. Unfairly, maybe, but that would be pretty toxic.

And if I _did_ go, what would happen to us? We had a two-way mirror that would connect us whenever we wanted.

But still, it wouldn't be easy.

"I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too," she reciprocated with a small smile, for she could see that I had made my choice.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: In which Carina goes shopping and meets a Slytherin.**

"How about these, sweetie?" he said, pointing to a set of mustard yellow robes. I made a face. Maybe on someone with a different complexion, this yellow would look wonderful, but with my ultra-pale skin and dark hair, it was out of the question.

"Dad, no," I sighed. In preparation for my transfer to Hogwarts, I had to buy certain magical supplies. I could have gotten most of them back in Nice, but the textbooks I needed were all in English. So rather than searching for French shops that owned these titles, Dad and I took a portkey to London, straight to a shopping center called Diagon Alley. Out of my family, Dad was the only one who traveled to England regularly, as it had been relatively safe for him to do so during the war. Apparently, the Greengrass family was well-respected, so if Dad had been caught, the worst that could happen was that he would be interrogated and maybe held temporarily. But if Mum had ever returned, she may have been killed on the spot.

"I thought so!" Dad grinned, browsing a different rack of clothing. "Yellow was the color of your _mother_ 's Hogwarts house," he added. "I think you'll look much better in these," he said, gesturing to a set of robes in emerald green. I nodded vigorously.

"You know, sometimes it's helpful to have a dad with a sense of fashion," I remarked. He laughed.

"Green was the color of _my_ Hogwarts house," he added. "I'll have to tell your mother that I won!" he exclaimed gleefully. But I was curious about something.

"What are the other colors?"

"Well, Gryffindor is scarlet, of course, and Ravenclaw is a royal blue," he replied. "Of course, both of those colors would look better on you than Hufflepuff yellow," he added. "Ironic, no?" But my mind was spinning.

"Hey Dad, do the houses mean anything, really?" I asked. "How do you choose your house? And why do they have such weird names?" It finally started to hit me just how much I needed to learn about Hogwarts in the next few days. I was clueless, and it took a whole trip to London for me to realize that.

Dad looked at me strangely for a moment, then spoke.

"I forgot how little you knew about Hogwarts, sweetie," he sighed. "The four houses - Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Ravenclaw – are named after the four founders of the school, who lived hundreds of years ago, which is why their names are like that." He paused, letting out a chuckle. "You get sorted when you first start Hogwarts – I won't tell you how, but it involves a bit of magic, of course – and no one really knows how it works."

I snorted. Trust wizards to leave everything to some spell.

"But every house stands for a few set of core values," Dad kept going. "For instance, Hufflepuff is all about loyalty, hard work and kindness."

I nodded. Knowing Mum, that made sense. But I wasn't very much like Mum.

"I don't think I'm very kind or hardworking," I told Dad.

"Well," he said, "I think it's more about what you value rather than what you are," he remarked. "But I don't think you're a Hufflepuff, either. And don't tell your mother this, but I think you're more of a Slytherin," he winked.

"What does Slytherin value?" I asked.

"Ambition," he replied. "Cunning. Survival. Greatness." His face suddenly grew grim. "Voldemort and his followers were all from Slytherin," he added quietly.

I gulped. Yeah, it was a good thing Dad was telling me all of this before I went to Hogwarts. Now I knew who to avoid.

"But sweetie, not all of them are like that. Not all of _us_ are like that," he reassured me, his warm brown eyes pleading. I blinked. What was I doing? Did I just write off one quarter of the wizarding population as evil?

Did I just associate my _dad_ with Voldemort's followers?

"I'm sorry," I told him honestly. "I didn't mean to." He gave me a small smile and ruffled my hair.

"Don't worry about it," he sighed. "Just keep an open mind. And know that the other houses – especially Gryffindor – may be quite hostile to Slytherin after the war."

I nodded gravely. I generally praised myself on my lack of prejudice, so if it was so instinctive for me to vilify all of Slytherin, I could only imagine how easy it would be for all the other students that actually lived through the war.

"Now, since we don't know what house you're in yet, let's just go with a simple black," he said. I smiled. Black was all of the colors, and none of them.

– ∞ –

Flourish and Blott's had been a cute little bookstore, and it was easy for me to grab all the books I needed. Thank Merlin I didn't have to deal with any furry, _live_ books since dumping Care of Magical Creatures two years ago. Dad and I had one more stop, but unfortunately it was going to be my least favorite.

"You're running out of eye of Newt and lacewig flies at the very least, we _must_ visit the Apothecary," Dad told me for the millionth time. I let out an exaggerated sigh so that he would know – as if he hadn't for the past five years – how much I loathed Potions. But there was no arguing with him, at least not in public, so I put on my meanest scowl and let him drag me to a tiny shop at the end of the block.

The bell rung as we walked through the door. Musty and dark, the place was full of cupboards on all four walls. It was about the size of two Muggle lifts, so it could fit about ten people in it – max. In the corner, a tiny old lady was tending to a man and woman with white-blond hair of the same shade.

"Dad—" I started, but he wasn't listening. He was staring at the couple with his mouth slightly open. It took him just a second to walk up to them.

"Narcissa?" he turned to the woman. She turned around, and I took a good look at her features. Her eyes were a dark green, her cheeks sallow and thin. It was obvious that she had once been a beautiful woman, but I could see strands of grey in her hair and wrinkles in her forehead and eyes from years of worry. Her expression was warm, but incredulous.

"Lloyd Greengrass? I haven't seen you in years!" she exclaimed. At this, the man next to her turned around. He looked at least two decades younger – probably her son – but his face was just as sunken and pale and his forehead was wrinkled in the same places as his mother's.

"I've been living in France, hiding out the troubled times," he admitted. She sighed.

"If only Lucius and I had the sense to leave England," she muttered. "Perhaps things would be different." She shook her head and turned to me with a small smile. "Is this your daughter?"

My father nodded, then looked at me. Oh, I guess I was supposed to introduce myself.

"I'm Carina Greengrass. It's nice to meet you, Ms. Malfoy," I started, holding out my hand. She shook it firmly with her bony hand.

"What a polite young lady," she remarked to no one. "This is my son, Draco. He'll be in his seventh year of Hogwarts now – oh, what am I saying, you've probably already heard our names…" she glanced at me, but I shook my head, puzzled. "You haven't?" Now it was her turn to look confused.

"Madame, I've been studying at Beauxbatons for the past five years. Though I'm transferring to Hogwarts for my sixth year, I know no one there but my cousin," I told her honestly. I didn't know Astoria very well, either, as we only saw each other on holidays or other occasional family gatherings. For some reason, Narcissa Malfoy seemed to brighten up at this.

"I see," she said slowly. "Well, would it be alright to borrow your father for a quick chat? Draco can help you buy your ingredients, he's the best in his house at Potions," she suggested. The boy in front of me looked cautious and melancholy, but he didn't seem very hostile. It would probably be good to meet other people from Hogwarts.

"All right, then," I replied. Her eyes twinkled as she walked out of the Apothecary.

"Remember your ingredients, sweetie!" Dad yelled as he followed her out, leaving me and Draco alone in the shop. We looked at each other awkwardly for a second, then, realizing he wasn't going to initiate conversation, I smiled.

"Nice to meet you, Draco," I said, holding out my hand. He shook it tentatively, with a slight frown on his face. "What house are you in?"

"Slytherin," he muttered. And then I understood why he was being so wary and taciturn. Thanks, Dad.

"You know, my dad said that I might make a good Slytherin," I replied. He smiled slightly, but his eyes remained icy and sad.

"You don't want to be in Slytherin," he sighed. "Not now." His face grew darker – if possible – and his eyes started staring out into space, a haunted expression coming over him. I cleared my throat, snapping him back to reality.

"Er – here's my list of ingredients," I told him, handing my official Hogwarts list. He scanned it for a moment, then rummaged around the cupboards pulling out lacewig flies and beetle eye and all sorts of common ingredients that I could hardly name. In a few minutes, he was done.

"Here you go," he handed me a pile of boxes.

"Thanks for your help," I smiled, setting the items on the counter. His sleeves had rolled up in the process and I noticed there was a tattoo on the inside of his left forearm.

"What's that on your arm?" I asked. His eyes flashed for a split second as he yanked his sleeve down.

"Nothing," he said quickly. "See you around, Greengrass."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: In which Carina takes the Hogwarts Express and meets a Ravenclaw.**

Never had ramming my whole body against a pillar been so unsatisfyingly painless. I huffed and opened my eyes, only to widen them in surprise. Sunlight shone through windows that didn't exist a second ago, and in front of me was a red and black train, with kids my age and younger scampering about, meeting their friends and dragging their trunks to the baggage area. The only writing around was the fine lettering on the side of the train: The Hogwarts Express.

"Ready, sweetie?" Dad turned to me. "Remember, write us as soon as you can. And tell us which house you're in! I have a bet with your mother," he winked. "Oh, hello Astoria," he added before I could retort back.

I turned around. Sure enough, my cousin was right behind us. She gave me a small smile. I always liked Astoria – better than her aloof older sister Daphne, at least – though I'd only seen her twice in the past three years. Her long light brown hair, the same shade as Dad's, was tied up into a single braid that fell to her waist.

"Hi Uncle, Carina, how are you?" she asked. I noticed that her parents were several meters away, trying their best not to look at us too much. Dad wasn't exactly on great terms with his older brother. Lawrence Greengrass, as well as his parents, were quite traditional, and though they didn't fight alongside Voldemort, I knew they still disapproved of Dad marrying Mum, who was from a – what do you call it? – oh yeah, a blood traitor family. Of course, if they knew about Dad's sexuality, they'd disown him completely, so ironically, they were the main reason Dad ended up marrying Mum in the first place.

"I'm alright. A bit nervous. Where do we put away our stuff?" I replied.

"Oh, let me take you there," she said, glancing back and forth between me and Dad.

I turned to my father. This was the last time I'd be seeing him before Christmas. But we had separated like this before, so as usual, I gave him a tight final hug.

"See you, Dad."

"We're so excited for you," he said. "Have a great term, sweetie." And with that, I smiled back and rolled my bags away to follow Astoria.

"So, Astoria, which house are you in?" I asked.

"I'm a Ravenclaw," she replied. Ravenclaw, huh. I hadn't heard much about it from Dad.

"What are Ravenclaw's values?"

"Intelligence, mostly. Curiosity, wit, all that." She shrugged. "That doesn't mean we always get the best students though, since intelligence often comes with laziness," she added, tossing her long braid back.

I laughed. Astoria was right of course, as I knew from personal experience. I was naturally pretty smart in Charms, but that just meant that I coasted as an average level without doing any work, really. On the other hand, I was abysmal at Potions, no matter how hard I tried.

Then I noticed a silver pin on her robes, probably hidden under her hair just a few seconds ago.

"What does 'P' stand for?" I asked, looking pointedly at the tiny ornament.

"Oh! That," she piped up, smiling, "is my prefect badge." When she noticed that her explanation hadn't helped, she went on, walking by my side. "A prefect is a student who's given the responsibility of looking after younger students essentially, making sure they don't break rules and such. For instance, they can dock points—"

"Points?"

Astoria turned to face me, stopping. Her gray eyes seemed to be attempting to read me, probably trying to figure out if I was pulling her leg or something.

"You're serious," she finally said in wonder. "Merlin's beard, you've got so much to learn. Come on, let's put away our trunks and I'll explain as much as I can."

– ∞ –

"So how come you're a fifth-year this year? We're the same age," I asked half an hour later. By some miracle, we'd managed to find an empty compartment on the train, and Astoria wasted no time in telling me how houses competed for points each year for some measly cup and how Quidditch was the main focus outside of academics and a myriad of cultural details that I'd be glad to know ahead of time.

"Well, as you know, last year had the Battle of Hogwarts," she began nervously. "But that entire year was quite awful, for everyone here. Dumbledore had just died, and Hogwarts had essentially been taken over by Death Eaters. And rather than teaching the magic they should have been, they—" she stopped for a second, shuddering. Her face had grown pale and haunted, not unlike the way Draco Malfoy's had just a few days ago. "T-they used Hogwarts as a t-torturing s-school," she muttered. She paused to take a deep breath before fiddling with her braid. "Because of that, everyone is repeating a year. We're getting a double-sized class of first-years, but that shouldn't be a problem really."

"I see," I murmured. Blimey, I hadn't meant to ask such a personal question. I was naive to think there wasn't going to be much post-war trauma surrounding me. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," she replied, still fiddling with her hair. She stood up and smoothed down her robes. "Anyways, I've got to get to the prefects' compartment, we're having a meeting and patrolling the train, I'm already late. I'll probably see you next at Hogwarts, so have a good trip!" she added, hastily shuffling out of the compartment.

I sighed. Leave it to me to poke my nose in other people's private lives. So far, Astoria and I were getting along pretty well – we shared a similarly cynical sense of humor, rolled our eyes at our ultra-traditional grandparents (and parents, for her), and though she understandably seemed a bit uptight and angry, I could definitely see us becoming friends. I just hoped that I didn't just destroy the rapport we were building.

Not before long, the door opened. It wasn't Astoria this time, but a blond haired teenager with eyes that reminded me of the crystal balls we used in Divination.

"Hello there," she said in a light voice, her eyes fixated on a space squarely in the middle of the compartment on no object in particular. "Mind if I join?"

"Sure, go ahead," I replied, deciding that there could be no harm in trying to socialize with strangers.

"You don't seem like a first-year," she added after a minute of scanning the tiny room, finally concentrating on me. "Yet I've never seen you before. What's your name?"

"I'm Carina," I smiled slightly, "Carina Greengrass. I'm transferring from Beauxbatons for my sixth and seventh years here. My parents thought it would be safer for us all to stay in France for the war, so that's why I'm only coming now."

The girl furrowed her eyebrows. I couldn't tell if she was judging me and my family for hiding throughout the war or just trying to process and understand my unusual situation. Maybe both. Somehow, though, I didn't really think it was the former.

"Greengrass? Are you related to Astoria?" she asked. Now, this I wasn't expecting.

"Yes, she's my cousin. How do you know her?" I responded in surprise.

"Oh, she's a fellow Ravenclaw. One of the nicer ones," the girl replied, still in her dreamy voice. "I'm Luna Lovegood, by the way, and I'm also in sixth-year now," she added. Sixth-year. That meant she was actually a year older than me, according to Astoria. But something was bugging me about the name Luna Lovegood: I was sure I heard it somewhere. Oh well, I wouldn't dwell on that for now.

"So," I started with some small talk. "How do I know which house I'll be sorted into, anyway?"

She laughed. It was a melodic laugh, like the ringing of silvery bells in winter.

"Does it really matter?" she replied. "Everyone in each house is so different. I wouldn't worry, unless you're put into Slytherin."

"Why Slytherin?"

"Well, they're having a tough time now, what with—"

But she never got to finish her sentence, because at that moment, the compartment door opened. A familiar head of white-blond hair peered in slightly, visibly brightening a bit upon seeing my face.

"Oh, it's you, Greengrass, do you mind if I join—" Draco started, but then his eyes shifted to my new companion, and his face returned to the haunted expression that I recognized from before. "Lovegood," he murmured coolly, gulping. "I apologize, I didn't realize you were in this compartment."

I turned to Luna. Her expression didn't seem to have changed so drastically, though I noticed her eyes became more focused and she too grew slightly paler.

"It's quite alright," she replied, no longer in such a dreamy tone.

"Well, I'll be on my way," Draco muttered, hastily closing the door without giving me so much as a nod of goodbye.

As soon as he was gone, I turned to Luna, but she went back to staring into space. Oh well, I knew better than to pry this time. After a minute, she rummaged in her bag and pulled out a newspaper that I'd never seen before, titled _The Quibbler_. I almost believed that she had simply brushed off the awkward exchange between her and Draco.

Except that for the next few hours, she didn't turn the page once.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: In which Carina gets sorted and starts the search for her father.**

The rest of the trip to Hogwarts passed by uneventfully. About half an hour after the encounter with Draco, I cautiously pulled out my two-way mirror and decided Luna probably wouldn't mind if I talked to Annette – I doubted she would listen in, either. It took three tries to finally get a connection with my girlfriend, but finally I got a hold of her. For a wonderful hour, Annette helped me relax before venturing off into the unknown, but as soon as we said our goodbyes, the uneasiness in my stomach started to return.

But finally, the train jolted to a halt, and even my silent compartment buddy set her newspaper down in excitement. Oh, maybe I could actually talk to her now.

"Hey Luna," I started. She turned her large round eyes to me. Good call, Carina, she has acknowledged your existence. "How do I get to the Headmistress's office?" She raised her eyebrows just slightly at my request.

"Why would you need to go there?" she asked. "It's on our way; I can show you soon," she added helpfully. Alright, that was fine then, at least I wouldn't get lost on my first day. I followed Luna to get off of the train.

The first thing I saw as we exited the train was not the ancient castle of Hogwarts in the middle of the rolling mountains of Scotland as I expected. No, it was a man – a bloody huge man – a giant, probably, like Madame Maxine. Yet I'd never really talked to Madame Maxine up close, but this guy was standing right next to me and seemed to be waving in my direction. Down, of course, down about half his bloody height.

"Yer Carina Greengrass?" he asked, his eyes glancing to and fro a photo in his dinner-plate-sized hands. I simply nodded, too dumbfounded to speak for now, I guess. "Come wif' me, I'm s'posed teh take yer teh Headmistress McGonagall." Feeling stupid and – fine – slightly intimidated, I just nodded and grabbed my bags to walk in his direction. We took a boat across a lake that I hadn't yet noticed because of the dark, followed by a massive group of young kids. First years, probably, since that's what the giant man had been shouting about before we left. Soon enough, after walking ten minutes or so uphill, we arrived at a giant castle.

Hogwarts.

Alright, granted, it was pretty majestic, even from the outside. Grand columns, and an even grander set of probably marble steps leading up to an enormous double door of wood and ornate iron. A very different setup from Beauxbatons, which was more like a summer house or resort than an old fortress.

Yet even despite its magnificence, I could see signs of the war's toils. One of the columns had a large crack in it that even the most skilled sealers couldn't get rid of completely, and the steps were a bit uneven yet extremely smooth, as though they had just been replaced. But despite these small details, if this was what the school looked like from the outside, I was pretty excited to see it from the inside.

As if to quench my curiosity, the massive doors parted with a large boom to reveal a tall witch. With a set of rounded spectacles sitting on a prominent nose and posture neat and strong enough to rival a pillar, this lady looked like the epitome of…propriety.

"Welcome, new students," she began in a firm voice that only continued to reinforce her appearance, "I hope you've enjoyed your journey. My name is Minerva McGonagall. I am the Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and you will address me as such. To begin, you will all be sorted into one of the four Hogwarts Houses. First years, follow Professor Hagrid—" here she gestured towards the giant man, who raised his hand in a friendly smile "—to the Great Hall. Your sorting will begin soon. The rest of you, follow me."

I gulped as McGonagall walked stiffly to her left, trying to follow behind her as fast as I could. Once I felt considerably less body heat around me – no more loud little first years – I looked left and right to see who was walking in the same direction as me. There were only two others: a red-faced, freckled blond boy a bit younger than me, and a bloke my age in glasses with light brown hair a bit longer than my own, but shaggier. A few twists and turns and many peculiar wall paintings of battles and fruit later, we entered a beautiful room, with ornately decorated glass and wooden cases crammed with old books and walls and ceiling covered in portraits of old men and women, most of whom were asleep or watching us like a theatre show.

"Alright then, you three transfers, welcome to Hogwarts. Let me introduce you – George Russel from Ilvermorny, starting his fourth year," she started, nodding her head towards the blond boy, "Damian Antonoff from Durmstrang, starting his sixth year, and Carina Greengrass from Beauxbatons, also starting her sixth year. You two –" here she pointed at Damian and I "—will likely see each other in classes this year."

Damian and I looked at each other in relief. Even if the rest of our class year was unfamiliar to us, at least we natural outcasts would know each other. We shook hands and such with each other, and then with George. After some small talk, McGonagall cleared her throat – not very loudly, but somehow managing to silence us immediately.

"Now, you three will all be sorted into one of four Hogwarts houses. I presume you know a bit about them, yes?" she looked at all of us meaningfully. Thank Merlin I had talked to Dad and Astoria beforehand, for if I hadn't, I would have been absolutely clueless, and there was no way I was going to disagree with this lady. The other two seemed to think the same way, as none of us made a peep. McGonagall nodded brusquely at our silence.

"Quickly, now, before the ceremony with the first years begins," she commanded, pulling out a dusty old hat that began to move its tip up and down and speak. Ah, magic.

"Ah, early pickings? Let's see, let's see," it said in the voice of an old man. "Welcome to Hogwarts. I am the Sorting Hat, and I am responsible for sorting each of you into one of the four houses of Hogwarts: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin."

"We're in a bit of a rush," stated McGonagall. "These three need to be dealt with quickly, so that we can proceed to the first years."

The Sorting Hat nodded – or, what I presumed to be a nod – and huffed slightly in annoyance, but said nothing in response. I had a feeling there were very few people that could ever say anything in response to McGonagall's stony glare.

"Russel, you first," she began, "put the hat on." Immediately, the blond boy marched up to the hat and slammed it onto his head. I could see the tip of the hat move around in contemplation for a while, before a sound that nearly burst my eardrums filled the room. Only after a moment did I realize it had yelled, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Antonoff, next," McGonagall continued. George sheepishly took the hat off of his head, handing it over to the older boy. Damian proceeded to go next, albeit a bit more calmly. The sorting hat took longer this time, so Damian was probably harder to place. But nevertheless, the hat finally roared, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Damian's face flushed at the declaration, and I was going to ask him why he looked so annoyed, but then McGonagall barked for me to take the hat. I walked up to Damian and grabbed it with shaking fingers. Nervous. Why was I so nervous? It didn't really matter which house I got put into, anyway. And if I didn't like it, I'd only have to stay for two years. And it's not like my entire identity was determined by this. Right?

Before I could stop thinking rationally, I slammed the hat onto my head.

 _I see we have a…harder one_ , a voice spoke into my head. I shot up, looking around the room to see who had done it before I realized it was the hat. Bloody hell, I should really stop acting like such a Muggle.

 _Eh…I see your mother was a Hufflepuff_ , the hat spoke again. I widened my eyes. If the hat could instantly tell that about my mother, then surely my father – my first father –

 _You don't have much Hufflepuff in you,_ it continued. I remembered what Dad had said about me not being a Hufflepuff. He'd probably win the bet with Mum at this point.

 _Ah, but your father, well, he suffered quite a sad fate, not least thanks to his house_. I held my breath. How could this hat possibly tell who my real father was? _You do have some of him in you, more so than your mother at least, but still, best not put you there either_.

My head was spinning. This was the most information I had ever gotten about my father, all these years. For the first time, I had finally felt excited to be at this cold, unfamiliar school. Here, I would be as much of a misfit as I had been at Beauxbatons, but besides just studying all sorts of horseshit, I would finally have something interesting to do.

 _Very well then, I see how you think_ , the hat once again murmured in my head.

"RAVENCLAW!"

– ∞ –

"So what's Beauxbatons like?"

"Are you really related to Astoria?"

"You two look nothing alike."

"How come you've only come back after the war was over?"

Merlin's beard, there were so many questions! The first I could sort of answer, the second was complicated, and the rest…never mind. Panicking just a little bit, I scanned my new house table for someone who didn't look overeager to interrogate me. Apparently I was a more interesting commodity than the new Ravenclaw first years, who were receiving a very healthy dose of attention from the older kids. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a familiar mass of curly blond hair – Luna! She would leave me in peace, at least. Without second thought, I walked up and planted myself right across from her. She barely even noticed.

"Hello, Luna," I greeted her, hoping that would at least elicit a response. It did, but not one that I was expecting – though, really, what was I thinking; this was Luna. She looked at me with narrowed eyes at first, then her expression widened into a bright but soft smile.

"Did something happen?" she asked.

Sorry…was there something I missed? I blinked.

"What do you mean?" I asked carefully.

"You're very bright," she elaborated, "golden, even. Something good happened to you." I frowned. What good thing happened to me again…?

Oh, yes – that's right. Bloody hell, this girl was so perceptive. I was such an idiot to forget…and I was going to continue to be a bloody idiot by spilling my quest to Luna.

"Well, you see, my real father died before I was born," I started in a low voice, Luna's eyes twinkling with understanding. "Mum says he was a hero in the first war against Voldemort. But she refuses to say anything, except that he went to Hogwarts. So she sent me here to figure it out, and today I found my first clue."

"That's wonderful," breathed Luna in her dreamy voice. I don't know how, but I had managed to hold her attention for those full three sentences. Or was it four? Maybe it was the idea of this puzzle that intrigued her – she was a Ravenclaw, after all.

So was I.

"Yes," I said, "so I've cut it down to half of the wizarding population. He was either in Gryffindor or Slytherin," I told her. She nodded.

"That's good," she said, "do you know when he died?" she asked. "They keep a journal in the library of wizards who died, especially war heroes," she explained, seeing my puzzled look. "I know because I searched my mother a few years ago."

And then it made sense – the undivided attention, the sympathy and understanding – it was all actually empathy. I was about to say something in return, even a pathetically generic "I'm sorry," but was interrupted by a clinging of the glasses from the professors' table.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: In which Carina feels out of place but still somehow finds new family.**

"Welcome, students to a new year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I hope you have had fulfilling summers, spent time with your family and friends, and – for the returning students – remembered the lessons you've learned from past years," McGonagall's speech started on a very professional note, as I'd expected. Every student in the hall was listening, though I wasn't sure how much of their attention was from fear as opposed to curiosity.

"I know that we have all faced troubled times," she continued, taking a deep breath to prepare for the words she was about to say. Or to steady her own self – I wasn't sure. "The war has been hard on all of us. There is not one single person here who has not lost close kin or friend. There is not one single person here who hasn't hurt."

Looking around the room, I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. People were nodding at her words, some even dabbing their eyes or clutching each other to keep from shaking. I had felt uncomfortable and awkward before – meeting Draco, talking to Astoria on the train, watching the interaction of Draco and Luna – but this was the first time I was feeling something like survivor's guilt. I didn't know their pain. I was an outsider, though I wasn't sure if this was good or bad. As my eyes drifted towards the other house tables, they made contact with a pair of bright blue ones from the Hufflepuff table. A pair that indeed belonged to Damian, the Durmstrang transfer. He looked quite pale, actually, and not a little nauseous, but when he saw me, his face brightened just slightly. Maybe I really wasn't the only outsider here.

"The Battle of Hogwarts is done," McGonagall continued, "Voldemort and his followers have been defeated. Yet the fight is far from over. We have been torn apart – friend by friend, family by family, house by house – and now we need to rebuild it all. We need to put aside our losses and our hate, and we must step over our pasts to see the future."

"So my advice to you all – study hard. Put your best efforts into what you love, whether that be Quidditch, or Healing, or even – dare I say – Transfiguration." The last statement generated a weak laughter from most of the room. Bloody fantastic, another joke I wouldn't get. But at least it was good to know that McGonagall was capable of making one.

"Stay with your friends, but don't resent those who were once your enemies, for they are likely as broken as you are. And on that note, here's to another school year. Here's to a year of rebirth," she finished, raising her glass. Immediately, the room erupted into thunderous applause, everyone standing up – even the professors – and cheering for their Headmistress. The food on our plates and on the table platters transformed into dessert, with plum pudding and chocolate cake enveloping the entire hall. As I sat down to take a bite, I noticed Luna talking to a boy sitting next to her, a reserved-looking seventh-year named Terry Boot, who had been one of the first to introduce himself to me with a polite if brief handshake. I leaned my head in a bit to join their conversation. It would be good to try to mingle, at the very least, right?

"Dad is still stuck in St. Mungo's," Terry was saying with a sigh, "they don't know if the tremors in his hands and wrist will ever go away. Might not be able to do much magic again," he finished gravely.

"I'm sorry to hear that," replied Luna. "My dad is quite healthy and still running the Quibbler, but I don't know how to face him after he betrayed my friends," she sighed. I was curious about Luna's story, but decided this was the wrong time to bring it up. Terry seemed to think the same thing. He looked at her, then noticing me listening in, flickered his eyes in my direction.

"That's terrible, Luna," I murmured. She sent me a sad smile.

"It's not, really. At least I had a father who loved me," she replied back in a soft tone. "I'm sorry."

"What do you mean?" Terry Boot asked, switching his gaze to and fro Luna and myself. "Astoria's always told me her uncle was the only family member capable of open-minded love." I beamed in pride at that. Dad wasn't my real father, but Lloyd Greengrass was still an awesome stepparent.

"She's right," I nodded, "her parents and grandparents are pretty traditionalist. I mean, it's not like they don't care about her, but they don't really see her for who she is." Terry nodded in agreement. Hopefully he was warming up to me. "But her uncle isn't actually my biological father," I explained, "he died before I was born, Mum always said."

Terry's eyes lit up. Good. I guess sharing daddy stories would be enough to gain acquaintances, at least for now.

"Who were your parents?" he asked between mouthfuls of treacle tart. Although this was no less of an interrogation than I faced before I sat down with Luna, it felt different. More sincere, I thought. At least I hoped.

"I don't know my father at all. Mum would never talk about him. In fact, she never talked about any of her family – that was a taboo subject at home, always got her crying. Her name was Eliza Prewett, though…" I stopped, noticing Terry choke on his tart and spit it out on his plate. What a waste of dessert!

" _Prewett?_ " he repeated with wide eyes and mouth as soon as he got his breathing back with a charm from Luna. "Merlin's beard, you're from quite a prestigious Gryffindor line! But you're seriously saying that your mother never talked about her family?"

"No," I replied quietly, my eyes suddenly getting watery. I blinked away my anger. Why, Mum? Why didn't you tell me anything about your family, let alone my father? Was it that hard to get through one conversation without bursting into tears?

Luckily, Terry seemed to have noticed my reaction and decided not to press the topic much further.

"Anyways, if you want to find out more, talk to the Weasleys, they're your cousins," he suggested with a small smile and a friendly pat on my shoulder. "Ron and Ginny, seventh-year and sixth-year – the only two kids in Gryffindor with flaming red hair and freckles," he added. I looked past the Hufflepuff table in the direction he pointed. Sure enough, a boy and a girl with carrot-red hair like Mum's were sitting next to each other, laughing and bickering animatedly with all those around them. But their eyes were just as forlorn and hardened as those of everyone else in the room. Everyone except me.

Well, not _everyone_. I glanced back at the Hufflepuff table. Sure enough, Damian was in a seemingly calm conversation with those around him. When he noticed me, he sent me a reassuring smile – and I returned it.

But my eyes shot back up to the professors' table, because once again, I heard the sound of clinging glasses.

"The feast is over now," Terry Boot whispered in my ear. "You've finished your first day, Ravenclaw."

– ∞ –

"I'm sorry I didn't approach you at the feast earlier," said Astoria, "but congratulations on Ravenclaw! I'm so glad we've got another Greengrass subverting the family expectations," she chuckled.

"Thanks," I smiled, "and don't worry about it, I was ever the social butterfly," I grinned back. Well, maybe calling myself a social butterfly after talking to two people was a stretch, but whatever. It's not like Astoria was there. Honestly, at first I had been curious why I'd hardly seen her at the Ravenclaw table earlier, but her explanation that she was on prefect duty made sense. I guess. Either way, I was glad that she at least came to talk to me, because I wanted to ask her a couple of things.

"Hey Astoria," I started, "if someone was a war hero who died young, and they were in either Gryffindor or Slytherin…they'd probably be in Gryffindor, right?" I asked. She sent me a sad smile.

"This is about your real father, right?" she sighed. "Your mother is a Hufflepuff, so presumably she was on the side opposing Voldemort," she looked to me for confirmation. I nodded. "In that war, those two houses were split cleanly, with Slytherin on Voldemort's side and Gryffindor against him. Of course there were some 'moderates,' like my parents, but even they leaned closer to the Slytherin cause, and they were as neutral as you'd get. So I'd say that your father was definitely in Gryffindor."

"Thanks, Astoria," I replied, "that cuts my search down to a quarter of the scope it was before today."

"If I can ask, how did you figure that much out?" she responded quizzically.

"The Sorting Hat," I explained lazily. She nodded.

"Ah," she added, "it had quite a conversation with me too. Asked me if I was _sure_ I didn't want to go to freaking Slytherin like the rest of my family," she smiled, "Obviously, you know my answer."

I laughed. Merlin's beard, Astoria was fun, and I was glad to have her in the same house as me, even if we weren't going to be in the same classes. We sat and chatted for a while, until she started yawning and rubbing her head and we both went off to our separate dormitories. For a long time, down next to a silently slumbering Luna.

Gryffindor. Terry had said the Prewett's had a long line of Gryffindors. Even if Mum was a Hufflepuff, she'd probably have interacted quite a bit with Gryffindors that were family friends and such. Probably met my father there too.

What else had Terry said? Oh, yeah. I had cousins.

It was time to talk to Ron and Ginny Weasley.


End file.
